


Behind Closed Doors

by fyreyantics



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Comeplay, Dacryphilia, Daddy Kink, Face Slapping, Humiliation, M/M, Manhandling, Masochism, Objectification, Physical Abuse, Public Humiliation, Rough Sex, Sadism, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:13:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23241535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyreyantics/pseuds/fyreyantics
Summary: Peter forgets something important. Rumlow doesn't like it when his plaything forgets things.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 7
Kudos: 111





	Behind Closed Doors

Peter sat watching TV when the door opened. He tensed. Keys jangled as Rumlow made his way into the living room. He dropped down beside Peter with a sigh.

"Get me a beer."

Peter nodded and made to get up when Rumlow grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down.

"What do you say?"

Peter swallowed. He hated this.

"Yes, Daddy." Rumlow patted his cheek, a little too hard for comfort, and Peter quickly walked to the kitchen.

He opened the fridge then froze. On the bottom shelf was a conspicuous absence of beer. The longer he stared the deeper the dread inched into his stomach. He was supposed to have replaced them, he realised, and he started shaking. Instinctively he looked towards where he knew the apartment door was but he couldn't run. Peter knew what happened when he ran. Closing the door of the fridge, Peter attempted to calm himself with a few deep breaths. He walked slowly back to the lounge, his mind unable to settle on any future course of action that could possibly make things go down smoothly. By the time Peter was in sight of Rumlow, his head was blank.

Rumlow still sat on the couch with his legs spread wide. He lifted an eyebrow expectantly and leaned forward.

"Where the fuck is my beer?"

His voice was low and soft but it filled Peter so suddenly with terror that Peter couldn't speak. Expression darkening, Rumlow got up, and slowly stepped towards Peter until their faces were mere inches away. Peter flinched when Rumlow reached forward to grab Peter's jaw surprisingly delicately.

"Peter?"

"Th-there isn't any," Peter stammered. "I didn't buy any after we ran out."

He squeezed his eyes shut. Everything was still. Then Rumlow roughly pushed Peter to the floor. Peter fell backwards, only just managing to brace himself with his arms for the impact before hitting the ground.

"How the fuck did you become so useless?"

Rumlow walked forward and stepped on Peter's arm, gradually adding more and more weight, Peter grimacing at the painful ache until it was almost too much to bear. He clenched his teeth and took a gasp of air.

"I'm sorry," Peter choked out, eyes watering. "Please -"

"The amount of fucking times I ask for something so fucking simple and you just can't manage it." He took his foot off Peter and Peter gave a brief sigh of relief before Rumlow jabbed him in the side. Groaning, Peter's hand moved to cradle the area. Lip trembling, he looked for any sign of mercy in Rumlow's face. He closed his eyes and turned away as Rumlow raised his foot once more. He opened them a moment later in surprise when the cold sole of Rumlow's shoe touched his face. He didn't press down - he simply rubbed the dirty, grimy sole against Peter's face like he was wiping it off on a welcome mat.

Rumlow sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. "You really are just a stupid whore. Get your fucking clothes off." Peter rushed to obey, his arm dully throbbing and protesting as he sat up to tug his shirt over his head. Bruises and cuts littered his naked torso. He struggled with taking off his pants and boxers, pulling them off by lifting his hips from the ground. Peter got up onto his knees and looked up. Rumlow slapped him hard, taking Peter by surprise. His cheek heated fast and a harsh sting throbbed as his eyes stayed wide. With an equally startling movement, Rumlow pulled Peter up from the floor and shoved him to the wall. Peter gave a small cry of pain.

"Come on, baby." Rumlow encroached on Peter's personal space until he was right up close. He held Peter's neck in his grasp and smirked. "You know I need to hurt you sometimes. You know you're a stupid little slut who needs to learn."

"Yes, Daddy."

"Say it."

"I'm a stupid slut."

"And?"

"I need to be hurt."

Rumlow's eyes lit up. He started to press down on Peter's throat, harder and harder until Peter could hardly swallow, could hardly breathe, and he struggled in Rumlow's grasp. All he could see was Rumlow's smirking face and not for the first time he wondered if it would be the last thing he ever saw.

"You know what?" Rumlow growled in Peter's ear, "I should just use you for what you're for. Stop expecting so much. Keep you as my fuck toy." He released his grip and pushed Peter back against the wall.

"Get in the bedroom."

Peter obeyed, trying to ignore the clenching fear in his chest. He got there and waited, unsure what do, so he simply stood.

Rumlow was fast behind him. He shrugged off his jacket, tossing it to the side. In a wide confident stance he walked forward and eyed Peter hungrily. A predatory grin inched across his face.

"Bend over."

Peter turned around and bent over the bed.

He heard Rumlow shuffle around. The metal buckle on Rumlow's belt clanged followed quickly by a zipper being undone. Peter swallowed thickly.

Lube-coated fingers pushed at his entrance roughly. Peter clenched his teeth as Rumlow squeezed them in, stretching him open and not caring about Peter's discomfort. As soon as Rumlow decided it was enough he slipped his fingers out. Peter took a few bracing breaths but still wasn't prepared when he felt Rumlow lined up and shoved his cock inside of him. Peter cried out, his body resisting the intrusion, yet Rumlow didn't give way. Grunting, he kept pushing for Peter to take it. His hands gripped Peter's hips hard enough that Peter knew he'd leave bruises. Rumlow kept shoving forward until he managed to fill Peter. He let out a deep groan, and after a moment, drew back and started pummelling Peter hard. Peter whimpered and groaned at the mounting pain.

"Please," Peter murmured weakly, "it - it hurts -"

Rumlow slapped Peter's ass hard, a jolt of stinging pain flashing through Peter. Tears brimmed in his eyes, slipping down his face.

"You deserve it. So fucking take it," Rumlow grunted. He didn't let up - if anything he fucked Peter harder. Peter clenched the sheets and tried to think of being anywhere but there. Rumlow shifted. His cock hit just the right spot and a rush of pleasure mixed in with the pain. With every stroke it built until Peter could feel his cock growing hard, the bed beneath him providing enough friction that it was feeling good and slowly it melded in with the roughness, signals mixed until what hurt and what felt good started to feel the same.

The familiar heat of shame filled him.

"You're fucking lucky you're a good fuck," Rumlow growled. "Or you'd be out on the street."

Peter whimpered. He had no reason to doubt it.

"You gonna thank me, Pete?" Rumlow reached over, draping himself over Peter until he was far enough forward to grab at Peter's hair, tugging hard and pulling his head back. Peter tried to catch his breath; tried to think over the loudness of pain.

"Th-thank you, Daddy," Peter choked out. Rumlow huffed a laugh in Peter's ear, warm against his skin.

"Good slut," he murmured in a breathy baritone. He bit down on the thin cartilage and Peter let out a pathetic yelp. He cringed at his own outburst.

Letting Peter's hair go, Rumlow drew himself back to his original position. He growled with each forward thrust, pushing the air out of Peter until he was gasping and moaning. His cock throbbed beneath him and he could feel the wetness of his precome as Rumlow's movements caused it to drag against the bed sheets.

"Can't believe you get off on this." Peter buried his face down, not wanting to hear Rumlow. He wasn't going to come - Rumlow was going to use him and leave, like he's supposed to. He wasn't going to come, he wasn't -

"Daddy's little fuck toy. Just a hole for me to dump my come in."

Peter whimpered.

"Say it for me," Rumlow snarled. He slapped Peter's ass again when Peter didn't answer straight away.

"I-I'm Daddy's fuck toy." Peter's eyes were wet again, tears threatening to spill. "I'm a hole -" Peter choked back a cry and sobbed. "Please," he begged, not knowing precisely what for.

"Just say it, baby, and you can go." Rumlow pulled back his hips and slammed hard into Peter. Peter half-shouted, half-moaned, lowering himself to cry into the sheets.

"I'm a hole, Daddy."

"Can't hear you, slut."

Peter let out a groan of frustration and lifted his head up. "I'm a hole. I'm a hole for your come, Daddy, please, I've been good, please, I won't do it again, I swear, Daddy - please -"

" _Fuck._ "

Rumlow's hips stuttered, and with a heavy groan he finished inside Peter. Peter's face burned in shame. So much of him hurt, but the pressing thing in his mind was his cock. The friction had stopped and he couldn't move. He couldn't let Rumlow see how bad he needed it. He just couldn't. After catching his breath, Rumlow withdrew. Peter trembled with effort.

"Don't move. Wanna see it drip out of you."

Peter bit back a whine, holding himself still. It felt like forever before he felt Rumlow's come start to trickle out and down his leg.

He heard the click of Rumlow's phone taking a picture. Peter didn't know what he did with them but he didn't want to know. If he put them on the internet, at least no one could see his face. Though he wasn't sure how much that really mattered anymore. He heard Rumlow do up his zipper and belt.

"Get up."

Peter got to his feet shakily, stumbling. Rumlow didn't help him when he fell and caught himself on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah, knew you were fucking hard," he muttered to himself. He took Peter's cock in his hand, grip almost painful. "Got the sheets all wet too. Fuck, you're disgusting." He drew his hand up and down Peter's shaft. Peter kept his eyes down.

"Hey. Look at me." Rumlow slapped him. "Be fucking grateful I'm doing this at all."

Peter rose his head and met Rumlow's eyes - dark brown and glinting dangerously, ravenous and devious, his handsome rugged features the same that pulled him in a year or so ago, the dark hair and rough beard, once aspects of a lover, but now of a captor. Rumlow stared deep into Peter's eyes like he was consuming him, and Peter had to let him as he grew closer and closer to the edge, letting loose small moans. He felt vulnerable, Rumlow's hand moving faster and faster. Peter couldn't stop gasping, biting his lip only for the moans to fall out even louder and more insistent than before.

"You gonna come, baby? My pretty little whore's gonna come?" He slapped Peter again when Peter didn't answer.

Peter nodded wordlessly.

"Yeah. Fucking come then."

Peter's face twisted. He could feel his balls clenching and his breath stuttering before finally it spilled over, come shooting all over Rumlow's hand as, for a brief moment, Peter was somewhere else, flooded with weightless bliss.

When he came back, regret dipped low in his stomach. He'd come. He didn't want to come for Rumlow, he didn't want Rumlow to see it - to feed off his moment of joy and seeing him plummet back to despair. The corner of Rumlow's lips twitched into a smile.

"Why so sad, huh?"

He brought up his hand. Peter realised a moment too late that it was the one that had been jerking him off, and in shock he froze as Rumlow wiped Peter's come all over Peter's face.

"There. Now you look as filthy as you are on the inside."

It was still warm but felt gross and sticky against Peter's skin. He made to wipe it away when Rumlow stopped him.

"Ah, ah. You're going to keep that on and you're going to go buy me my beer." Rumlow's smile widened as dread filled Peter. Rumlow wanted - actually _wanted_ him to go out like this.

"No, please. I can't. Please," Peter rambled in a panic.

"It's not that bad."

"It is! Please. Please don't make me. People will see, and I..."

"Fucking do it," Rumlow hissed, "or I'll have to really find a way to make you sorry. You want that, Peter?"

Peter hesitated. It wasn't the worst thing Rumlow had come up with. It wasn't the hours of torture he knew Rumlow was capable of. He shuddered but ultimately agreed.

Rumlow clapped his hand on Peter's shoulder. "Good."

Peter put his clothes back on and left the apartment, his own come on his face, and trying to pretend he didn't exist.


End file.
